


Symphonic Cacophony

by Candasaurus



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Castle of Dreams, Gets a bit dramatic at the end, I can't think of the right tag for it tho, Mentions of Ventus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22585876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candasaurus/pseuds/Candasaurus
Summary: Vanitas' first exposure to music.-Just a quick drabble while I still had the thought.-A wetness filled his eyes as his attention turned to the last instrument. Sadness and longing, the sound his heart makes when he thinks of what he doesn’t have. Violin . Ventus. Long cold nights, alone in the empty desert. The harp . Staring at the group of stars he knew his Light hid away from him. Falling stars as the meteor shower marked the date his mission began.His breathing came out heavy and hot, his mask fogging from the emotions he’d kept locked up for months now. Unraveling his self discipline like snapped twine.Music.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Symphonic Cacophony

**Author's Note:**

> I want to explore this more, but I'm so preoccupied with other things.
> 
> You're more than free to take it and zoom off with it XD lol

This place was reeking with light. At least he was no longer by that estate where an obscene concentration of it made residency. Still, he sent in his Unversed inside to take care of it, but oddly enough, he could feel his fledglings shrinking away… or… just. Shrinking? They still caused enough mischief, he wasn’t going to worry about how or why. And got all the information he needed from the overly loud young girls shrieking in excitement, about the coming events for this world.

The village left much to be desired, but boy did the bakery smell good, he’d have to swing by before leaving the world. The villagers bustled about, all gossiping and meandering. Getting ready for this big event they’re calling a Royal Ball. He found himself being tempted in looking at the clothing, decor and food. 

But as of now, the very large castle was his target. He had scouted the area to spread his Unversed. Leaving plenty in the garden. They were going to have “ _ Ball” _ themselves. Inside, it felt bigger, which was saying something. Endless hallways, numerous rooms, a gym he may or may not have dilly dallied in for a few minutes, and staircases he tried to count, he almost felt a little lost after some time. 

Avoiding the immense palace staff scurrying about making preparations, when a sound catches his attention.

Diverting his current path, he followed the echo of the strange new sounds bouncing off the marble walls. He could tell he was getting closer just by the volume alone. It was unlike anything he’s ever heard. There was certainly more than one culprit in the vicinity. Not any one thing could make such an array of pitches and tones.

Waiting for a few maids to cease their duties and move on to the next room, he finally stepped into a large room full of plush chairs, gaudy yet somehow charming decor, over exuberant paintings donned the walls, flowers in hand crafted vases he knew for a fact did not grow in the area. With this kind of climate? Oh definitely not.

He shut the double doors behind him so he could roam the room freely. His feet hushed by the lush carpet, almost like moss. Not letting the distracting room take too much of his attention away, he let loose some Hare Raisers, Scrapers and Floods, which hurriedly scurried into the nearest shadows. One scraper timidly hanging back to cling to his battle skirt. There was a time he’d push them away, but they always relentlessly clung to him a bit longer than the others, so he let it stay until it knew where it wanted to go.

Another set of doors sat across the room, the sounds coming from just the other side, he could feel the vibrations against his helmet. He pocketed some fruit and bread as he passed a table full of hor d’oeuvres and other such nonsense luxurious foods. Maybe he could get away with sipping some wine before leaving. He would probably not have the chance again. 

Quietly, he turned the handle, opening the door slowly, revealing the balcony view of the ballroom. Glad his helmet’s visor dimmed everything, the brightness from the chandeliers and open curtains to the floor to ceiling windows, letting in the sun was far too bright for his favor.    
  
Gliding over to the railing, the scraper gripping tighter to him, he leaned just so over the banister to glance down to see a group of nicely dressed men and women, holding up objects that he feels he should know but can’t quite place them, remnants of his other half perhaps. The source of the noise came from them interacting with these…  _ instruments _ . That’s the word. 

Vanitas scoffed at the gesture. Why would they purposely make these sounds? It didn’t sound all too pleasant, did people really dance to this? He had heard those in the village praising the talents of the “musicians”. He was unimpressed-

“Alright everyone, that is quite enough tuning. Let us rehearse the first score of the evening.” A man wearing a coat with tails, it made him appear more important than the others, stood in front, holding a thin stick proclaimed, tapping it on his hands as the others adjusted in their positions and held form. Vanitas quirked his lip, curiosity peaked.

With a flick of his wrist, in a rather flashy way, the  _ conductor,  _ another word provided in the back of his mind, raised his arms and began to sway them with purpose, and the next thing Vanitas heard made his heart constrict, but, not unpleasantly.

The large pear shaped instrument hummed with a low thrum. His back began to feel warm as the  _ bow  _ glided along the strings. _Cello_. They had a partner, playing the same. The beat they followed, a man banging on a cylinder object…  _ drum,  _ his heart fell into the same rhythm. A wailing. No? A golden mouth, yelling something he wished he could eject out of his own chest.  _ Horn. _

A wetness filled his eyes as his attention turned to the last instrument. Sadness and longing, the sound his heart makes when he thinks of what he doesn’t have.  _ Violin _ . Ventus. Long cold nights, alone in the empty desert. The  _ harp _ . Staring at the group of stars he knew his Light hid away from him. Falling stars as the meteor shower marked the date his mission began.

His breathing came out heavy and hot, his mask fogging from the emotions he’d kept locked up for months now. Unraveling his self discipline like snapped twine.

_ Music. _

Vanitas could feel echoes of memory of it, through their connection, even though he never heard it himself. Now, he could listen for himself. A symphony, instead of the constant cacophony that buzzed in his mind. He could almost think clearly for the first time, everything else faded out as he let the music wrap him up in a metaphorical blanket. 

Leaning against the railing, he sighed, letting the moment wash over him. Chills thrillingly cascaded through his limbs. He could almost say he felt… good? The Scraper at his side was no longer gripping him in a vice, instead stared directly at the band below, following the movement of the conductor’s baton. Claws clenching in and out. 

He could get used to this… maybe he could stay a little while longer, just listening. Maybe eat some of the food he just stole. Stick around to see what dancing was like. No one would notice-

“You there! Young man, how did you get here? You’re not supposed to be up here!”

Or not. Moment ruined, Vanitas stood straight and turned, glaring unseen, but felt, daggers at the intruder’s direction. He’s seen this man with the air headed King of this land, his blue outfit stood out from the rest of the castle staff. Fidgeting with the monocle is obviously a nervous habit. This man did not like confrontation. Perfect.

The Scraper had fled the instant the man spoke, and had crawled up to the ceiling of the room to hang from the grand chandelier. A few of the other Unversed had crawled back out from underneath the furniture to stand to attack. 

“What on earth?! Guards!” The man spoke with fear and alarm. Vanitas greedily absorbed his negativity to fill his reservoir of emotions. The music abruptly ceased, much to Vanitas’ disappointment, but were replaced by screams of terror as his Unversed revealed themselves. The energy of their negativity is raw and ready for manipulation. 

As if on cue, the Scraper dropped from its perch, and as it descended to the ground, it dissipated into a cloud of darkness. Before disappearing, it took the room’s negativity with it. Vanitas smirked, knowing it’ll reappear when those wretched heroes of light come to this world and give them hell with its new form. He could already feel its transformation. He was quite proud of this new incarnation, he wished he could hang around to watch it in action.

But now the guards have arrived, and were attacking his creatures. It didn’t take a Keyblade to destroy them, that’s the biggest difference between the unversed and heartless. But they still existed within him, it didn’t matter the weapon. It just so happened that Keyblades hurt a little more.

The man scrambled up onto the table, avoiding getting smacked to death by the ears of his hare raiser. “Ghastly creatures! Why do they not attack you?”

Oh, he’s quite observant, even in the face of danger. All he could do was laugh. With a snap of his fingers, the unversed ceased their assault, and returned to hiding, disappearing as if they were never there. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

And with that, he back flipped off the balcony, and into a dark puddle on the floor far below. He re emerged just down the hallway, hidden behind a tapestry as he listened to the hectic screams of horror, and what could be mistaken as concern, for his fall. He sneered in their direction, and turned to leave as they wallowed in their own confusion.

Having his fill of human interaction for the day, he skipped going through the village on the streets, and kept to the roofs. Mindlessly humming the tune from the ballroom’s tiny orchestra as he went. He found he quite liked … music.

Passing the bakery again, the watering in his mouth was quite the negotiator, so he let loose an Archraven to fetch him whatever it could grab. And to his luck, a plain loaf and his very first custard roll. A good day, if he did say so himself. 

He reached the clearing just past the village border, the same trail that led up to the large house he had visited earlier. Recalling the immense light that resided there. Maybe he could leave some more unversed there before he left, they shrunk inside, but an annoyance was better than nothing. Like small rats. That’ll put them in a tizzy. 

The icing on the cake to this unusually good day.

It was dark when he finally arrived on the vast property. Stopping by the fountain to rinse his fingers of the custard,removing his helmet to clean the driblets on the metal chin guard from when he merely dissolved that part of his mask. He didn’t particularly like seeing his own reflection, but he didn’t want to leave any evidence of his indulgence, so he cleaned his face. 

Just as he was considering dunking his whole head into a fountain, he felt it. That connection. The one thing in all the worlds he yearned for more than anything else. His back stiffened as he turned to glare through foliage, to the dim light he could see from the lanterns of the house. The sound his heart made, it was the same as the violin he heard back at the palace.

Ventus had arrived. 

Ignoring the persistent tug he always felt when he was near, almost close enough to pull on the invisible thread, and make him stumble, he stood, turned heel and created a dark portal. He needed to leave before his temper got the better of him. Unversed still seeping out of him like a leak in a faucet.

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t restrain how he felt when he could sense Ventus just around the corner. He didn’t want to feel this way around him. It wasn’t fair. How could he feel all this longing and neediness, how he wanted to reach for him, like the slow gliding of the bow on the strings of the violin, when they’re worlds apart. 

But then turn a 180 and want to stab him with the teeth of his Keyblade, quick and harsh, thrumming the strings until the hairs of the bow snap. Digging his fingers into his chest to rip his heart out to hear the beating like the drum in his hands. Watch as his life slips through his fingers, the warmth leaving him as the cello’s base chills him to the bone, all while his voice screams, ringing in his ears like the horn.

Stepping through the other side of the portal, he collapsed onto the harsh grounds of the graveyard. Where he belonged. Heaving as his blood boiled, his emotions trying to tear him apart, and out from his skin. He doesn’t remember taking off his helmet and throwing it, but he’d find it cracked later. 

He cried. He should have known that everything good would be taken by Ventus in a heartbeat. What he thought was his to enjoy, now he loathed more than anything else. He never wanted to go back to that world again.

Tears dripping onto the parched earth like the chime of a harp’s cord.

Vanitas doesn’t like music. 


End file.
